Vitamins for the Living Dead

Elena stared at the vitamin D supplement on her countertop, the orange bottle mocking her with promises of energy she hadn't felt in months. Her phone buzzed—another invitation to play padel at the club, as if returning to the court where she'd first met Marcus could somehow restore what they'd lost.

She declined. Instead, she drove to the ocean, stripping down to her swimsuit as the sun began its slow descent. The water was colder than she expected, shockingly bracing against skin that had grown numb from routine. She struck out toward the horizon, each stroke a rebellion against the zombie-like existence she'd been living since Marcus moved out two months ago.

They used to be vibrant together—weekends spent padel-playing with friends, dinner parties that lasted until dawn. Now she moved through days like an automaton, checking boxes: vitamins, exercise, work, sleep. The words in Marcus's last text echoed in her mind: "You seem dead inside, El."

Perhaps she was.

Her palm brushed against something floating in the water—a dead jellyfish, translucent and beautiful even in death. She tread water for a moment, watching it drift. This was the most alive she'd felt in months: cold water stinging her skin, salt burning her eyes, muscles protesting with each stroke.

Back on shore, she lay on the sand as her body heat returned. The palm trees swayed above her against a violet sky, their shadows elongating like fingers reaching toward her. She pulled her phone from her beach bag and typed a message to Marcus, not asking him to come home, but inviting him to dinner. To talk. To maybe begin remembering how to be living instead of merely surviving.

The vitamins would still be there tomorrow. But tonight, she wanted something real.